Chapter Text
Fifteen years ago, Sirius Black would not have thought twice about the scene in front of him. After all, what could possibly be remarkable about a man making breakfast? But that was the new, quiet power of Remus Lupin—after twelve years of imprisonment, he could strike Sirius speechless just by occupying a room. Remus never tried to take up space anymore, but Sirius’ eyes always found him anyway. So, Sirius stood in the doorway and watched Remus at the stove, frying up eggs for two.
Sirius drank the sight in hungrily. Remus was, for once, wearing a t-shirt that bared his forearms; normally, Remus kept the scars there covered up. There wasn’t a need to hide them from Sirius, and that thought made him more pleased than he cared to admit. The early morning sunlight filtered through the window and made Remus’ greying tawny hair shine like a halo. Sirius thought back to before, when Remus’ shoulders weren’t so weighed down, when his amber eyes weren’t so tired, when there weren’t so many scars breaking up the freckles on his face. Sirius couldn’t explain it, but somehow, Remus was just as beautiful now as he was then.
Once Sirius had his fill of Remus-watching, he slunk into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, burying his nose into Remus’ neck. “Morning, Moons.”
A quick glance up revealed Remus’ face turned as much as he could with Sirius pressed against him, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Morning, Padfoot. Sleep well?”
Sirius closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He’d woken up a few times, haunted by nightmares he couldn’t quite remember, but he didn’t want to burden Remus with that on such a lovely morning. “Sure did. You?”
He felt Remus shrug. “A few aches and pains, but I can’t really complain. It’s normally worse near the full.”
That woke Sirius up. He opened his eyes. “You did promise that I could join you this time.”
“I did.” Remus shifted his weight and Sirius adjusted himself accordingly, aware that Remus’ right knee bothered him as the moon waxed. “Tea?”
“Please.” Sirius pressed a kiss to the junction between Remus’ neck and shoulder, hoping to butter him up just a little for the coming conversation. “I’m looking forward to seeing you, Remus.”
A little huff escaped Remus. “I don’t understand why, but I’m not going back on my word. You can stay for the transformation. I’ll have the potion, so don’t expect a grand old time. I’ll be sleeping most of the night.”
That was a filthy lie. Sirius couldn’t fault him for it, though—if he had to go through two bone-shattering transformations in less than twelve hours, he wouldn’t be able to sleep well, either. Being allowed to witness the transformation was not a privilege Sirius took lightly, however, so he was careful with his reaction. “I always have a grand old time with you.”
He had to smother a grin when Remus let out a little laugh. “You’re getting sappier in your old age, Pads.”
“Is it sappy to express my love?”
Remus cast him a fond, exasperated look and extricated himself from Sirius’ embrace, two teacups in hand. He handed one to Sirius and took the other to the table; two plates of eggs followed when he waved his wand. Remus took a sip of his tea before responding. “You used to just leave me little presents and hope I got the message.”
Ah, yes. Bitten once again by his emotionally-stunted younger self. Sirius sat down across from Remus. “I’ve learned some new tricks.”
“You have,” Remus admitted, looking a little awed by the thought.
“I love you more than life itself.”
Remus grimaced; he always could tell when Sirius was working up to a grand gesture. “That’s… flattering?”
“My heart is an inferno that burns only for you.”
“Moving closer to desperate, now.”
Sirius almost couldn’t bite back his laugh. He batted his eyelashes. “Thine eyes are the loveliest sight I hath seen, a blessing this wretched soul hardly deserves—”
“And there went my appetite.” Remus sighed disappointedly and pushed away his plate, but Sirius saw the mirth sparkling in his eyes. And to think that Remus considered himself a far cry from the man Sirius had fallen in love with. “Must you always spoil my meals?”
Sirius propped his head up in his hand, grinning lazily. “My only crime was professing my love.”
“Well, I wish you’d waited until I finished my eggs.”
Sirius really did bark out a laugh then, and he noticed the broad, pleased grin that broke out over Remus’ face in response. Sirius had missed that smile, and he realized now that he was just as smitten with it as he’d been when they first met. He encouraged Remus, all jokes aside, to finish eating, and took it upon himself to make Remus another cup of tea. The full moon was in three days, and not even the dementors had erased this pre-moon routine from his memory.
“The moon,” Sirius said as he hunted for the milk, “and then… telling Harry, yeah?”
“Yes.” He heard the looming question in Remus’ voice, so Sirius held back his response. Sure enough, Remus continued. “How do you think he’ll take it?”
Sirius was a little surprised to hear this concern from Remus; he’d been the one, back in the day, insisting that James would understand and be supportive, that Sirius’ fears were irrational. Sirius had known it to be true deep down, but the words always caught in his throat when he tried to get them out, terrified that he’d be wrong and he’d lose his only family forever. Well, Sirius knew what time wasted and chances lost were now, and he didn’t intend to repeat those mistakes. But Remus had never ridiculed him for being afraid, so he didn’t ridicule Remus now. “I think he’ll be happy for us.”
“Yes, I think so, too,” Remus said slowly. “I meant… Well, I was his professor. And you’re his godfather.”
Sirius did not see the issue. He brought Remus the fresh cup of tea and sat again by his partner. “You’re more than just his old teacher, Moons. He won’t have any sort of problem, he likes you.”
Remus was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t think I am, though. I used to be, but Harry only knows me as his teacher now.” Remus frowned. “It might be strange, having a teacher in the family.”
It seemed so utterly ridiculous that Sirius couldn’t stop his jaw from hanging agape. Remus had been there, just as Sirius had, when Harry was born. There were countless photographs of Remus holding baby Harry, of him laughing with Lily and getting into mischief with James. Harry had those photographs—he knew that Remus had always been a part of their makeshift family. And, true, there was a point there when Harry might have primarily considered Remus a teacher rather than the uncle he would have been, but it surely wouldn’t be too difficult to get to that place again. Harry had jumped straight from wanting to kill Sirius to asking to live with him, after all. Their journey from strangers to godfather and godson had lasted only hours.
Sirius considered saying as much to Remus, but ultimately decided that Remus was likely to try and poke holes in that logic. So Sirius came up with something more difficult to argue with. “Harry thinks the world of us both. He’s told me on more than one occasion that you’re the best Defense teacher he’s ever had. He knows you loved James and Lily—you told him about them while you were at Hogwarts. Look, it isn’t like it would have been… not for either of us. But you’re not just his professor.”
Remus ducked his head, an old habit of his wherever he wanted to conceal the emotions playing out on his face. Sirius reached out and intertwined their hands. He’d let Remus mull that over.
Finally, Remus looked up. “Even after all this time, you still surprise me.”
Sirius arched a brow. “Oh?”
Remus’ smile was so gentle. “Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself.”
The simple statement warmed Sirius’ chest. He’d dedicated many years to learning Remus, having caught on quickly that the trick was in the details. Remus wasn’t a person who could be known just by listening to his words—no, the subtle twitch of his lips said more. The slight narrowing of his eyes said more. The glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he lied through his teeth—it all said more. Sirius had discovered the secret to Remus, and the code had changed a little over the years, but not enough that he was a mystery once more. And, truly, it worked both ways—no one had ever been able to see through Sirius like Remus.
“Sirius.” Remus tilted his head to the side and worried his lip between his teeth, a habit he’d mysteriously developed in fifth year. It let Sirius know that he was constructing his words carefully. “I want you to know… It does mean a lot to me. That you want to tell Harry about us.”
Even though the words were complimentary, guilt raced through Sirius. The last thing Remus should have to do is thank Sirius for not treating their relationship like a secret. Sirius swallowed that feeling down, though, because he refused to make this about his old mistakes when Remus was trying to genuinely express his feelings. It was rare enough that he voiced them, these days. “I’d shout it from the rooftops if I could leave this bloody place,” he said, and he realized he meant it.
A small, self-deprecating smile appeared on Remus’ face, and Sirius despised it. “Just as well. That might not be the best thing for your reputation.”
None of that. Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Oi, watch it. That’s my husband you’re talking about, you know.”
That elicited a laugh. “That again? Should I feel cheated out of a ring?”
“Once I’m free,” Sirius began, leaning forward eagerly as the topic jumped to one he was always happy to discuss, “I’ll get that ring. I’ll propose, and we’ll have a giant wedding. I promise you, Moons, it’ll be the first thing I do.”
Remus ducked his head, but Sirius still saw his pleased smile and the pink coloring his face. “So, what? Calling me your husband now is a warning of what’s to come?”
“I’d call it a promise,” Sirius argued, but his eye roll was undermined by his toothy grin, “but sure, call it a warning. Really, though—boyfriend at our age? After all we’ve been through? Seems daft.”
“Mm. Husband it is, then, if we have no choice.”
Merlin, Sirius loved the man in front of him. “No choice at all. Drink that tea before it gets cold, I worked hard on that.”
The resulting laugh was music to Sirius’ ears.
…
Christmas was fast approaching, which meant that Harry’s gift was under heavy construction. Gutting the coming of age watches (one generously donated by Remus, the other a loving sacrifice made by Sirius) to create a wristwatch that would let Harry know where the remnants of his family were at all times was… challenging. It had been a long, long time since Sirius had surrounded himself with books in such a manner, and he felt transported to simpler times when they’d struggled through the creation of the Marauders Map.
Remus was a sight for sore eyes in his Gryffindor-scarlet jumper and faded jeans, tongue between his teeth as he scowled at one of the many open texts before him. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, revealing scarred forearms that Sirius wished would make more frequent appearances. Each time Remus ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his curls got more and more disorderly.
“Should have fucking worked,” he muttered, his Welsh lilt more pronounced with his annoyance. The wristwatch between them sported two watchfaces, both of which looked ordinary at first glance; the only indication they weren’t was the gold Sirius Black inscription at the base of one and the Remus Lupin at the base of the other. “Our location should come up when the password is spoken. All I’m getting is a murky image.”
It was tricky magic, but Sirius thought it would be worth it if Harry could find their location with a quick spell. Ideally, an image of their whereabouts would appear (helpfully labeled at the bottom, because Sirius didn’t expect Harry to be able to recognize every street in the bloody universe). So far, Remus could spell the watches to reveal either the image or the name location—and that was not at all to his satisfaction.
Sirius blew a stray hair away from his face, only for it to fall immediately into his eyes again. “I might change the password,” he declared suddenly.
Remus’ head snapped up so quickly, Sirius was shocked he didn’t give himself whiplash. “You’ve changed the password four times already. If you do it again, I’m murdering you and taking everything in your Gringotts vault before I flee the country.”
Strangely delighted by the threat, Sirius twirled his wand thoughtfully. “Maybe it should be an ode to Prongs. Something Harry wouldn’t understand, but we know is an embarrassing reference to one of his many attempts to woo Lily—”
“No, no—it has to be specific to us. And you know that, because you wouldn’t have asked to use my watch—or provided your own—otherwise. The objects have to be attuned to our magic, the incantation has to be meaningful to us. We just have to link it all together neatly.” Remus looked outraged. “I will get it. I will.”
Sirius wondered if he should admit that he’d already changed the password and that was likely the cause of Remus’ last failed attempt. He decided to keep it to himself for a while longer.
I seek the place that Padfoot’s strayed was poetry, if Sirius said so himself. Situation spotted to return it to a normal clock face was a little more on the nose, but it got the job done.
When Remus’ eye began to rapidly twitch an hour later, Sirius slowly took the wristwatch from Remus and touched the tip of his wand to it. “ I seek the place that Moony’s strayed,” he stated clearly. Remus’ eyes widened when an image of himself in the sitting room appeared, accompanied by the words 12 Grimmauld Place.
“You son of a bitch.”
…
The day of Harry’s arrival was a bright one. Sirius practically vibrated with his excitement, blood buzzing in a way it hadn’t done since his imprisonment. The house was decorated with Harry in mind, a glorious mix of Muggle and magical decorations. Sirius had coordinated with Molly on the menu for Christmas day; there was a sizable pile of presents for the guests who’d grace the house—everything was set. Sirius was most looking forward to the days leading up to Christmas; Harry would be coming ahead of his friends for once, which meant that Sirius would be able to spend some real time with his godson without any well-intentioned individuals interrupting him. Or telling him he was being an irresponsible godfather every time he breathed.
“Merlin,” Remus remarked that morning, “I haven’t seen you this antsy since Lily went into labor.”
Oh, Sirius remembered that night. James had called him through their two-way mirror at half past midnight, frantic but grinning. Sirius had, of course, accompanied Lily and James to St. Mungo’s, but he’d been forced to stay outside the room during the delivery. He was sure he’d worn down the carpet pacing for so many hours.
“Can’t help it,” Sirius grunted. “This is the day!” Sirius paused as a thought occurred to him. He glared at the bannister, which suddenly looked bare. “Do we need more tinsel?”
“No,” Remus said sharply. He’d been the one Sirius kept sending out for decorations, and (until now) had been a good sport about it. “This place could rival Hogwarts at Christmas. If you put anything else up, we might as well sell the house to Father Christmas.”
Sirius held his hands up in surrender, even as his mind fought to recall exactly what Father Christmas was. He remembered Remus’ mother, a wonderful Muggle woman by the name of Hope Lupin, telling them about it once—something about a bloke in red fur that broke into the homes of children? Sirius was fascinated by Muggle culture, but that was one tradition he could not wrap his mind around. He opened his mouth to respond to Remus, but was interrupted by the front door opening.
“Er, Sirius?” Harry’s young, uncertain voice accompanied the creak of the door shutting, and Sirius perked up like his Animagus form and barrelled into the front hall. Harry stood awkwardly with his trunk in hand, but his green eyes lit up when he spotted Sirius. The sight chased away the cold Grimmauld Place always left in his bones.
“Harry!” Sirius threw his arms out and wrapped them tightly around his godson. “Happy Christmas! How’ve you been?”
Harry grinned and adjusted his glasses, which had been knocked askew. “Just, uh, just the same as I’ve said in my letters. Umbridge is still—you know. But I’m glad to be here now! I’ve been looking forward to this.” Harry flushed a little at his admission, but he didn’t look away from Sirius.
One day, Sirius would get it through Harry’s head that he wanted him here. And that he wanted Harry to want to be here. “I’ve been looking forward to this, too. Been driving Remus absolutely batty, I have.”
Harry tilted his head in surprise, a movement that was so incredibly Lily that Sirius had to blink against the deja vu. “Lupin’s here too?”
Sirius mentally added get Harry and Remus on a first name basis to his holiday to-do list. “Of course,” he said easily. “Wouldn’t have been able to get this place into shape without him!”
Harry looked around and grinned. “Looks… festive.”
Sirius beamed. He heard Remus coming up behind him, thanks to his uneven gait—the old knee injury that acted up this time of month. “Hello, Harry. How’s school been?”
“Hi.” Harry’s grin didn’t falter as he turned to Remus. “It’s, er… Umbridge.”
Remus’ left eye twitched. Sirius bit back a laugh, recalling the many spirited rants Remus had given on that particular woman. “My sincerest apologies, Harry,” he said, sounding like he meant it. “I am… unfortunately familiar with Dolores Umbridge.”
At Harry’s confused expression, Sirius clarified. “She’s responsible for a lot of the recent anti-werewolf legislation.”
Harry’s nose scrunched in disgust. “Figures. No one can stand her—well, except the Slytherins—and she got rid of Quidditch. Quidditch!”
Sirius gaped. While he hadn’t been as fanatic about the sport as James, he’d been a beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team four years in a row. Then, another thought: “Bet McGonagall was thrilled.”
Harry huffed and shrugged, working himself up in a way Sirius had never been able to witness before. He looked right at Remus when he said, “You know she doesn’t let us practice any spells in Defense class?”
Remus blanched. “No spells? Then—here, give me your trunk—what do you do in class?”
“Read theories from the textbook,” Harry answered bitterly as he handed the trunk over. “She says the minister agrees that we’re only children who don’t need to ever worry about casting such spells. It’s rubbish.”
Remus shook his head. “Can’t imagine—tell me, Pads, did knowing how to identify a werewolf prepare you for coming face-to-face with the real thing?”
Sirius knew that Remus was referring to their first night transforming alongside him as Animagi, but he chose to misinterpret his meaning. He also noticed that Harry had clocked the causal nickname—and that Remus didn’t seem to realize he’d used it. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “First werewolf I encountered always used up all the hot water in the dorm, and no textbook ever prepared me for that —”
Remus turned around to glare at him. “First off, you know that was James, and second, you know that’s not what I meant.”
Harry jumped back in before Sirius could respond. “She’s gone completely mad. There’ll be an educational decree outlawing breathing next. But—” here, Harry leaned towards Remus eagerly, eyes bouncing between the two adults, “—what about you two? And the Order?”
He wanted to hear about the war, but Sirius was thinking about other news he and Remus could share. Remus glanced at him, waiting for him to take the lead, and Sirius decided that this was not a conversation that he wanted to have in front of his mother’s portrait. “Remus knows more about the war effort, Harry, since I’m stuck in this bloody house and all, but we actually do have news to share with you. Just—sitting room, eh?”
Remus cleared his throat and hefted Harry’s trunk into the air. “I’ll put this away and then put on the kettle. You two get started.”
Right. Sirius watched Remus walk away and tried to shake off his nerves—he was hyper-aware that this was one of the first serious talks he’d ever had with Harry and there was little room for error. But he was the godfather. He could handle this.
Harry looked at him sideways. “Is everything okay?”
Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Of course. It’s not a bad thing, just not the sort of topic I want my dear old mum listening in on. Come on, let’s go.”
His godson seemed happy enough with that explanation and followed Sirius without complaint. It was a little surreal to Sirius, how at ease Harry looked in this house—Harry looked more comfortable within its walls than out. Remus would say it was because he liked being with his family—meaning Sirius—and while that was touching, Sirius just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that anyone would look forward to spending their holidays here when he’d dreaded it growing up. But as Harry sat on the settee beside Sirius, kicked off his shoes, and drew his legs up under himself, there was no denying he was treating it like a home.
It made Sirius even more determined to get their conversation right.
Harry was waiting for him to start. Sirius remembered, with a jolt, that he’d never actually come up with the courage to tell James or Lily—not explicitly. There was no frame of reference for this.
Ah, well. Harry wasn’t known for his ability to read between the lines, so Sirius decided being blunt was the best way to go. “Harry. You like Remus, don’t you?”
Harry blinked, taken aback. “Er… yes?”
“And you know that I’ve been friends with him since I started school.”
“Yeah.” Harry squinted at him. He looked a little nervous. “Lupin’s not sick, is he?”
“What?” Sirius blinked, derailed. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know—you’re acting like you’re about to deliver horrible news!”
Sirius shook his head wildly. “No, no—I was getting to the point. Which is that you like Remus and already know that he and I have known each other for a very long time.”
Harry was looking at him like he’d grown two heads. “Well… yeah. But why—” His eyes widened. “Is he moving in here or something? That won’t bother me—I know you’re friends.”
On the one hand, it was a good sign that Harry seemed so earnest in his approval of Remus and Sirius living together. On the other hand, he’d completely missed the mark. Sirius ran a hand through his hair. He bit his lip. “I love Remus, Harry.”
Saying the words aloud sent a thrill through Sirius’ chest. Had he ever told anyone that before? He’d told Remus, but that was it. It felt… liberating. Like he was giving himself permission to love out loud and in the open. Sirius was so overcome with the feeling that he almost missed Harry’s reaction.
Which was a very matter-of-fact nod. “He’s your mate.”
Merlin’s balls. Sirius wasn’t sure even James had been this oblivious. “I am in love with Remus,” he amended. Then, just in case Harry could misinterpret that, “I love him the same way your dad loved your mum.”
Harry’s jaw was on the floor. “But—but I’ve never seen you two… you know.” Harry waved his hands around. “Even Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are… affectionate?” Harry winced at his own words, but Sirius sensed that it was due to his awkwardness rather than any real discomfort about the topic.
“We’ve had a lot of practice hiding it,” he explained slowly. “No one really knows. I didn’t even tell your dad,” he admitted, shame weighing down his voice. Best to be completely honest with Harry; he was a kid who’d been lied to much too often. “I wasn’t… the bravest, back then. Not with the things that mattered.”
There was so much more he could say about that, but that was a conversation he’d save for another day, if Harry ever had questions about it. Sirius clapped a hand onto Harry’s knee, trying to gauge his thinking. The poor kid looked more confused than anything else—Sirius might have been relieved by that if he wasn’t so puzzled by it.
“You’ve been together that long?” Harry blurted out. He looked shocked. “But—but you thought each other was—I don’t understand.” Harry shook his head. “I mean, I understand that you’re together. That’s brilliant. That’s really brilliant, Sirius. But if you’ve been in love that long, how could you both have…” Harry flushed crimson and avoided Sirius’ gaze. He opened his mouth, but Sirius instinctively knew he was going to change the subject, and the pounding of his heart didn’t like that.
“No, Harry,” he said firmly. He thought he was beginning to understand the real question in Harry’s jumbled speech, and he wanted it voiced. “Ask me.”
They locked gazes. Harry’s brows furrowed, but now he looked determined. Daring Sirius not to answer truthfully. “How could you love each other if you didn’t trust each other?”
Sirius should have expected a question like this from the very beginning. He’d been so focused on how Harry would react to the relationship itself, but Harry was a child whose survival was evidence of the very best side of love. He’d been told that his parents were so deeply in love—with him and with each other—that it had defeated even the Killing Curse. Which was true, Lily and James had a love that Sirius thought should be emulated, but all Harry knew was the rose, not the thorns.
Sirius let out a heavy breath. “That’s not easy to explain,” he said slowly, choosing his words, for once, with great care. “Last time, the Order was outnumbered. And we were all very young—I know you don’t want to hear this, being fifteen, but our youth had an impact on the outcome of the war. We graduated and then enlisted in a fight that we hadn’t begun. We were getting cut down left and right; there wasn’t a day that we didn’t receive tragic news.”
Harry huffed. He looked irritated, and Sirius could understand that. He remembered being fifteen and feeling like he knew how cruel the world could be. “I know what it’s like to lose people,” Harry argued.
“You do,” Sirius agreed. “But the people getting cut down were not adults I barely knew. They were not students I was only acquainted with. They were in my year at school. They were on the Quidditch team with me. They were my closest friends. And all we knew was that someone closest to us was the one betraying us… and it was unfathomable to consider any one of them could be that person.” Images swam in front of Sirius’ eyes, shadows of a past he’d done his best to bury. “Remus and I shared a flat after we graduated, up until I was arrested. When we learned that Voldemort was coming after you, we—me, Remus, your parents, and Peter—we knew that someone in our circle had defected. Your mum’s pregnancy had been kept very quiet… until, suddenly, it wasn’t.”
Sirius swallowed. He was very close now to revealing the secret that the Order had decided to keep from Harry, but he found that he didn’t give a shit. He cared more about the way Harry had gone silent, watching him with eyes that had seen too much and would see worse before the war was over. Sirius cleared his throat. The words didn’t want to come, but he forced them forward. “I need you to understand that we were terrified. When the Order realized there was a Death Eater in our midst, we stopped most communication. Everything was shared on a need-to-know basis, and yet, the Death Eaters stayed a step ahead of us. No one felt safe.” Sirius closed his eyes. “I trusted your dad and your mum. Why would they do anything to endanger their son?
“The rest of us were another story. It was like… Imagine that you learned that Ron or Hermione was planning to betray you—no, actively spying on you. Who do you trust? How can you choose who to believe?” He opened his eyes, haunted. Harry had gone stiff beside him. “That’s what we were up against, Harry. I had hoped that it was an Order member I didn’t know as well, but the more we were betrayed, the more likely it seemed that it was someone I was very close to. I knew it wasn’t me. I knew it couldn’t be James. And all the while, Remus went in and out of our flat, going on secret Order missions that kept him away for weeks at a time. And I wasn’t supposed to, but I asked where he went every time he returned. And I knew he wasn’t supposed to tell me, but every time he refused to, I grew more and more suspicious.”
“But you loved him,” Harry said quietly. It was the first time he’d spoken during the long speech.
“I loved Peter, too,” Sirius admitted—it was still a difficult thing for him to acknowledge. “Differently. But I loved him, too.”
“Your father refused to believe it was any one of us. He’d have considered it the height of dishonor to mistrust us.”
Sirius and Harry both jumped, then turned to see that Remus had returned with the tea. Without preamble, Remus flicked his wand and sent a mug each over to the other occupants of the room, then took his own to the armchair facing them. He glanced at Sirius a little curiously, likely wondering why their relationship reveal had turned into a war story, but then he refocused on Harry. “Sirius was suspicious of me, which made me suspicious of him. It was a vicious cycle that, in hindsight, was exactly what Peter needed to remain undetected.” There was regret in every line on Remus’ face. “Between us and your father’s outright denial… well. You know the story.”
“It’s a terrible thing,” Sirius said hollowly, “to love someone without trusting them.”
They waited for Harry to process what he’d heard. It was a lot to show a fifteen-year-old, but Sirius didn’t believe in half-answering Harry’s questions. He’d learned the dangers of half-truths.
The question Harry asked next was an unexpected one. He looked at Remus. “The secret missions. Where were you going?”
Remus looked taken aback. “I was making contact with werewolf packs around the country, trying to convince them to back the Order or, at the least, adopt a stance of neutrality.” When Harry frowned, he explained. “Society has never been kind to people like me, but tensions were much higher during wartime. Instead of living within a society that wanted them dead, many werewolves moved to the outskirts and lived among each other. I was asked to scout out those packs, and in some cases, infiltrate them. We were worried some had aligned themselves with Voldemort, and there I was… ready-made for the mission.”
The phrasing, spoken so softly with the kind of self-deprecation that only came from a lifetime of being treated like a sub-human, made Sirius seethe. He hadn’t known the nature of those missions until recently, and he still had half a mind to throttle everyone who’d been a part of that decision.
Harry obviously felt similarly. “That’s not—that’s not right.”
Remus only shrugged. “I appreciate your concern, Harry. But it was a job only I could do.”
Harry and Sirius both opened their mouths to protest that, but Remus raised a hand to stop them. “Not relevant to the conversation at hand,” he said firmly. “Harry, did Sirius explain—”
“Did you love him while he was in Azkaban?”
It was obvious by the way Harry flinched that he had not meant to blurt out that question, but it still sucked the air from the room. It was the question, truly, that Sirius had never dared to ask. He thought that Remus would refuse to answer it, or worse, admit that he hadn’t.
But Remus took a sip of his tea as his hands shook with tiny tremors, and his eyes flitted very quickly to Sirius’ and then back down again. “I did. And I felt very guilty about that for a long time. Like your godfather said, it’s a terrible thing to love someone without trusting them.”
Sirius’ heart swelled. It was more than he’d hoped for. He started to tell Remus that he’d loved him that whole time, too, but Harry had clearly been emboldened by the response.
“Even when you thought he was the traitor?”
Remus avoided both of their gazes. “Yes. It was buried beneath more grief and anger than I’d ever experienced before, and I would have attacked Sirius if you hadn’t discovered the truth. Understand that, Harry—no matter my feelings, I would have protected you.”
“I know,” Harry rushed to say. “I know you would have.”
Remus nodded. He looked fragile in that armchair, smaller than he should have been, but when he lifted his head and met Sirius’ eyes, there was a self-assuredness that reminded Sirius of his incredible strength. “I regret a lot of things,” Remus told him, “but you aren’t one of them. No matter how it had turned out—no matter what had been true—I could never regret you. You shaped too much of who I am for me to regret that.” He smiled ruefully. “Is that awful?”
“No.” Harry was watching. Sirius still leaned forward and placed his hand on top of Remus’. “Not awful.” He jutted his chin out and promised, “We’re going to get it right this time.”
Remus nodded again. The silence might have stretched on for longer, but Harry cleared his throat. “So… you’re both in love and have been since you were in school.” It may have been wishful thinking, but Sirius thought he heard a little bit of wonder in Harry’s tone.
“We have,” Remus confirmed.
“That’s brilliant,” Harry told them. He leaned back against the cushions and grinned. “I’m really happy for you.”
And it seemed to really be that simple. He’d gotten his answers about their time in the war, how love alone was not enough to banish the darkness inside, and now he was content with the knowledge that they were trying again.
Sirius was so happy. And what made him even happier was the realization of how he could use Harry’s words for his own selfish means.
“Thank you, Harry,” he said. “And now that you know, Remus and I can be more open about our relationship.”
Remus narrowed his eyes, wise enough to Sirius’ antics that he was rightfully suspicious. Harry, the sweet summer child, suspected nothing. “Yeah, ‘course.”
“I promise I will be much more affectionate towards Remus from here on out.”
Remus set aside his tea. “Sirius, hang on a moment—”
“Okay,” Harry said at the same time as Remus’ protest, and that was permission enough for Sirius.
He jumped up, grabbed Remus by the jaw, and planted a loud, sloppy kiss square on his mouth. “I adore you, Moony.”
Realization of what was to come was slowly dawning on Harry’s features. Remus groaned. “This is going to be a long fucking Christmas,” he muttered.
Oh, Sirius would make sure of it.
…
The bed was empty when Sirius woke the next morning, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Remus seemed to rise with the sun, but it meant breakfast and tea as soon as Sirius could make his way downstairs. It took a Herculean effort to roll out of bed, but he managed it when he remembered the previous day’s conversation with Harry. The plan was to march downstairs and give Remus a kiss, no matter who was present—it would kill two birds with one stone: show Remus the love he deserves and acclimate Harry to what life living with Sirius would be like. Sirius would have him moved out of the Dursleys by the end of the school year if it killed him—even if that meant kidnapping the Boy Who Lived right from under Dumbledore’s crooked nose.
When Sirius managed to stumble his way into the kitchen, Harry was already downstairs. He was sat at the table while Remus cooked for three, his green eyes alight with interest at whatever story Remus was telling. A quick listen revealed that they were discussing techniques for defensive spells. Not of any interest to Sirius, but he did adore the way Remus nearly threw eggs across the room when he got a little too animated with the hand holding the spatula. Sirius stood in the doorway for a minute, unnoticed by Harry and Remus, admiring the domestic sight before him. Finally, he decided to announce himself by wrapping his arms around Remus, hands sliding just a little under his shirt—
Remus yelped and jumped from the touch; groggy still as he was, it took Sirius a moment to realize what Remus was swearing about under his breath. Sirius pouted. “My hands aren’t that cold.”
Remus straightened his shirt, Harry snickering behind them. Sirius, missing Remus’ warmth, went in for another hug, this time burying his nose against Remus’ clothed collarbone. The man still grumbled, but he wrapped his arms around Sirius in return.
“Good morning, Moony,” Sirius murmured. He tilted his head up until he could press a quick kiss to Remus’ lips. “You’re looking good.”
And he was. He looked more relaxed than usual, and the morning sunlight streaming through the window lit his face in a healthy glow. Remus shot him a fond, exasperated look that told him he disagreed.
“Go sit for breakfast, Padfoot. Harry and I were just discussing defensive techniques he could teach the DA—did he tell you about that?”
“He did,” Sirius confirmed proudly as he collapsed theatrically in the chair beside Harry. “Brilliant and bold, James’ boy all the way.”
Remus flicked his wrist, wandlessly sending a plate to Harry and Sirius each. “I thought it was more of a Lily move, if I’m honest.”
Sirius acquiesced. “Prongs would have been all over that club, though.” He winked at Harry. “He’d be so proud you’re breaking all those barmy rules.”
Harry glanced up, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah?”
“Your mother and father both,” Remus called over from where he was pouring the tea. “And Sirius and I are proud of you as well.”
Harry grinned down at his toast. “Thanks.”
Sirius leaned over to pull Harry tightly into a hug. “Prouder than you know,” he murmured into Harry’s ear. When Remus walked over with the tea, he leaned back in his chair and said, “This is a good morning.”
“It’s nice,” Harry agreed. Remus nodded as he sat on Sirius’ other side.
Sirius took a long sip of his tea. He sighed contentedly. “I could get used to this. Early morning tea with my husband and godson.”
Remus’ absentminded hum of acknowledgment was interrupted by Harry spitting out his tea. “Husband? You didn’t mention you were married!” He pointed an accusing finger at Sirius. “You left that part out!”
Remus blushed crimson as Sirius let out a barking laugh. “I really didn’t—’s just that we’ve known each other so long, it feels that way. Or do you want me to say your old professor is your godfather’s boyfriend?”
Harry wrinkled his nose. “Point made.” He looked between the two adults curiously. “Are you… are you going to?”
Without meaning to, Sirius glanced at Remus’ ringless hand. Privately, he thought that a thin gold band would look very fitting on Remus’s long, thin ring finger.
Surprisingly, it was Remus who responded. “Some day. After the war, when Sirius has been pardoned.”
Sirius’ heart soared at the words. He moved his hand over to lace his fingers with Remus’. “Some day,” he agreed.
Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Does everyone else know?” he asked, his tone revealing that he was used to being the last to know such information.
“No one does,” Sirius said slowly, “but you were the only one we wanted to tell.”
“What your godfather means, Harry,” Remus chimed in, “is that it’s not a secret from anyone else, but we haven’t shared the news and don’t care to announce it.”
They’d discussed that in length. Remus was happy to simply… exist in front of everyone, loving quietly but not hiding. Sirius didn’t want to make a big announcement either; he was glad he’d told Harry, but it would feel strange to sit down in an Order meeting and declare his decades-old love for Remus. He was nearly forty, for fuck’s sake. Everyone else could put the pieces together.
“All right.” Harry nodded to himself. He smiled at Remus and Sirius both. “Thanks,” he said a little stiltedly, “for telling me. I don’t know if—I mean—I’m glad you told me.”
Sirius smiled broadly. “So are we.”
They finished their breakfast after that, Remus and Harry resuming the conversation Sirius had interrupted. It left Sirius feeling more at peace than he could ever remember being. Sitting there, Harry on one side and Remus on the other, it felt like all the pieces were finally falling into place.
And he could cast his mind to the future. It didn’t hurt to picture a wedding with Harry and not James at his side. Not when he could see a slightly-older Remus trying to duck his head to hide his teary eyes as they exchanged vows. It was a beautiful daydream.
Eventually, Harry excused himself to finish unpacking and, presumably, to write to Ron and Hermione about yesterday’s events. It left Remus and Sirius sipping tea beside each other in a comfortable silence.
Sirius decided to break it. “Would you marry me—”
“Not today,” Remus interrupted. His eyes were narrowed, but his lips were quirked up in amusement. “Don’t you dare propose today. I expect a nice dinner outside of your ancestral home first.”
“Thought this through, have you?” Sirius asked in barely concealed delight. “Know exactly how you want the proposal to go?”
“I have ideas,” Remus admitted. “But I fully expect you to throw any plans we might make to wind, so I suppose I’ll have to be flexible.”
Sirius snickered. “You know me too well.” He bit his lip, suddenly more somber than before. “Moons. Do you… I know what we’re up against right now. In case it all goes to shit again, would it be better to—”
“No.” Remus set down his tea and turned to face Sirius fully. The mirth was gone from his eyes. “I want to marry you out in the open. I don’t want anything less than that. I can’t promise that we’ll both see the end of the war, Pads—I’m not naive enough to try and promise that—but I would rather we be married at the end of it. If it doesn’t work out that way, then at least we know we loved each other.” Remus hesitated. “Is that a tragic ending?”
Sirius thought about all the days he had to look forward to: waking up beside Remus, laughing with him, sharing the moons with him… spending every day together. Would a ring truly make that better?
“Not at all,” he decided.
…
Christmas Day arrived quickly after that. Grimmauld Place was bursting with life, now housing the entirety of the Order and the Weasley family. They had all gathered around the tree and were exchanging gifts. Remus had just opened Sirius’: a new pair of clothes for the cold months. Seemingly small, but the pleased smile that graced his face let Sirius know that it was much appreciated.
Most of the guests were busy opening their own parcels, so Sirius didn’t feel bad about sneaking over to Harry and presenting him with the one gift that hadn’t been placed under the tree.
“This is another one from me and Remus,” he murmured. “You could open it here or in private later.”
Harry took the gift, curiosity burning in his eyes. Sirius tugged on Remus’ ankle to get him to come closer as Harry began to unwrap it. When the watch was revealed, Sirius began to explain.
“Say the code phrase and one of our names, and it will show you were we are at all times.” He told Harry the phrases, then demonstrated. Remus’ image appeared on the clock face, and Harry’s eyes widened. “We thought you might want a way to check in. Just in case.”
Harry didn’t react for a moment, and Sirius grew nervous. He opened his mouth—to say what, he wasn’t sure—when Harry suddenly launched himself at the two of them and drew them into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” he said into their shoulders, voice muffled. “This is… really great.”
Remus sounded a little choked up when he said, “Of course, Harry. We will be here whenever you need us.”
Harry laughed a little. “Not going to forget about me when I go back to school?”
Sirius felt guilty, then—screw Umbridge and the Order, he needed to talk to Harry more often. “You can’t make me forget you,” he swore.
They pulled away, then, and Sirius didn’t miss how Harry held the watch very carefully in his hands. Remus cleared his throat, clearly emotional, but he still patted Harry gently on the shoulder. And Sirius—he felt so suddenly aware that this was his family that he leaned forward for a quick snog—
Remus stopped him with a finger to his lips. “Harry doesn’t want to see—”
“I don’t mind,” Harry blurted out loudly, and that finally caught the attention of the others in the room. Harry looked at them a little sheepishly, but he said again, “I don’t mind. I’m happy that you have each other.”
Well, that was the only opinion Sirius cared about. Without further ado, he pushed aside Remus’ hand and pulled him in for a kiss. He didn’t care at all that people were watching—he was fairly certain one of the twins was cheering—and he felt Remus smile, so he knew he didn’t mind, either.
It was, Sirius decided, the very best Christmas he’d ever had.